Pull of Life
by snorting chords
Summary: Set after the Battle at the end of 'Sabriel.' Just a little oneshot from the POV of Sabriel, new Abhorsen, and her grief of losing her Father.


I should move. This water is cold, and I can feel the tug of death around my ankles. It wants me, as it always does. Every time I leave the warmth and colour of the Living and pass into the void of Death, I can feel the will of those I have banished, strengthening the current and willing me to falter so it can take the life I have so mercilessly denied them. And every time I fight it, even though this world is new to me. I have carried the title of The Abhorsen for a few mere months, perhaps three. I am not quite sure, as in Death all blends into one long moment. Yet despite this newness, this uncertainty in all I do, I feel so… weary. Every moment I spend in Death takes some of my spirit, and not even the Charter can offer healing for that. Not even my beloved husband, so new and old, can save me from that fate.

What is that old saying? I can barely remember anything right now, while the river of Death has me in its cold grasp. 'Time heals all wounds.' I think I used to believe that once. So why has time not healed this one? Why has it left my heart in two? Is that why I spend so much time here, fighting things of fire and destruction? I think perhaps it is, even though my mind tells me he is gone. We heard it, Touchstone and I. Astarael, the sorrowful. Bells of The Abhorsen are the tools of our… my trade, and we wear them with pride and strength, ring them without fear. Except one. The Weeper, who sends all that hear her mournful song deep into death, from where they can never return. Even the wielder, The Abhorsen, whose allies are the seven bright shiners that form their weapons. I fought it, using my passion for Touchstone as an anchor to keep me in life and to keep me bound to my duty. But he didn't. Every time I close my eyes I can hear the mournful cry that threw Father so deep into death that no spell or magicks could bring him back.

I know it was what had to be done, just as I would have. But the knowledge brings me no solace. He was the only parent I ever knew, the only person who showed me love. He comforted me when I was sad, even from a distance. Although he wasn't physically with me when I was growing, to kiss my wounds better or wrap his arms around me, he was always there. I never hurt, not really, because his love protected me like a blanket even through the horrors he fought in far distant lands. My tears never spilt, for he was always there in mind to wipe them away. But now they come freely, mingling with the freezing waters that would take me and no-one is here to tell me it is alright. For so long since the battle he lost his life in I've pushed away my grief, thinking it would be better to feel nothing than this pain and sorrow. I think my cry is similar to Astarael, the soft yet harsh woman who sings a sweet lullaby of death and loss.

But now as I sit in these cold waters, with the blood running down my chin, all the hurt comes rushing to me. I can hear him laughing, the Necromancer that has brought me to my knees. Laughing at the Legendary Sabriel, Daughter of Tercial and Abhorsen Queen brought to her knees by a petty sorcerer. It was foolish of me to think I could brave such a foe in my weakened state. I am tired from all the fighting. Since I bound Kerrigor and freed the Old Kingdom, all Touchstone has done is fight constantly to bring peace to his war-torn lands. I think it is a way to abate his guilt, as I can tell he blames himself for the Interregnum in the first place. It isn't of course, but no-one but he can convince him of that. Just as with the stars of the ninth precinct, there are some battles we must fight ourselves. This is mine, to fight through the pain and come to terms with something I have long hidden away.

But how do we learn to live without the person that gave us life? I do not know, and I'm so tired. I'm tired of all the fighting, of all the Necromancers and Free-Magic creatures that challenge the new Abhorsen. I have passed through the border between Life and Death so many times I just want it to be over. I want to look up at the stars and hear Astarael free my weary spirit. Then I can see him again, and everything will be alright. He'll make it better; kiss away my tears I cannot stop.

I do not know how I did so, but I am back in Life. Apart from a few cuts and bruises that are more skin wounds than anything, I seem to be alright. The song of Kibeth, the Walker, has stopped ringing in my ears and there is no metallic smell on the air. The Necromancer is gone, and I think I have walked him to look at the stars.

And with it, my pain has walked too. My heart, though still hurting, feels lighter. As if something has moved it back together and set a glue that is slowly mending it. I can even smile, something I have not done since I wed with my beloved. Nothing is around me except the ice that fell from my now life-filled body. Even the diamond of protection I cast before walking into Death still stands. So what has healed my heart and set a smile on a face that has been long devoid of happiness?

Life. That is what has mended a broken heart. The tug of Life that I felt deep within myself as I fought what I hoped was my last battle. I had been ready to fall not but a few moments ago. Let the river wash me away. But something pulled me back, and reminded me that Life goes on. People we love may pass into Death and leave us, but there will be others. Other loves, other friends, other family. Nothing will ever replace my Father and the love I had, still have, for him. But I can love again, and I can live. I can fill that gap he left with something happy, something he would be proud of.

And I can smile again, feel the baby growing in my stomach smile with me, and know that Father is looking down on me from the stars, so proud.


End file.
